CHAPTER FORTY.
A LETTER FROM HOSTE.
There was no postal delivery at Swaanepoel's Hoek, nor was there anyregular day for sending for the mails. If anybody was driving or ridinginto Somerset East on business or pleasure, they would call at the postoffice and bring out whatever there was; or, if anything of greater orless importance was expected, a native servant would be despatched witha note to the postmaster.
Bentley had just returned from the township, bringing with him a batchof letters. Several fell to Eustace's share, all, more or less, of abusiness nature. All, save one--and before he opened this he recognisedHoste's handwriting:
My Dear Milne (it began): This is going to be an important communication. So, before you go any further, you had better get into some sequestered corner by yourself to read it, for it's going to knock you out of time some, or I'm a Dutchman.
"That's a shrewd idea on the part of Hoste putting in that caution," hesaid to himself. "I should never have credited the chap with so muchgumption."
He was alone in the shearing-house when the overseer had handed him hisletters. His coat was off, and he was doing one or two odd carpenteringjobs. The time was about midday. Nobody was likely to interrupt himhere.
Something has come to my knowledge [went on the letter] which you, of all men, ought to be the one to investigate. To come to the point, there is some reason to suppose that poor Tom Carhayes may still be alive.
You remember that Kafir on whose behalf you interfered when Jackson and a lot of fellows were giving him beans? He is my informant. He began by inquiring for you, and when I told him you were far away, and not likely to be up here again, he seemed disappointed, and said he wanted to do you a good turn for standing his friend on that occasion. He said he now knew who you were, and thought he could tell you something you would like to know.
Well, I told him he had better unburden himself to me, and if his information seemed likely to be of use, he might depend upon me passing it on to you. This, at first, he didn't seem to see--you know what a suspicious dog our black brother habitually is--and took himself off. But the secret seemed to weigh upon him, for, in a day or two, he turned up again, and then, in the course of a good deal of "dark talking," he gave me to understand that Tom Carhayes was still alive; and, in fact, he knew where he was.
Milne, you may just bet your boots I felt knocked all out of time. I hadn't the least suspicion what the fellow was driving at, at first. Thought he was going to let out that he knew where old Kreli was hiding, or Hlangani, perhaps. So, you see, you must come up here at once, and look into the matter. I've arranged to send word to Xalasa--that's the fellow's name--to meet us at Anta's Kloof directly you arrive.
Don't lose any time. Start the moment you get this. Of course I've kept the thing as dark as pitch; but there's no knowing when an affair of this kind may not leak out and get into all the papers.
Kind regards to Mrs Carhayes--and keep this from her at present.
Yours ever, Percy F. Hoste.
Carefully Eustace read through every word of this communication; then,beginning again, he read it through a second time.
"This requires some thinking out," he said to himself. Then taking upthe letter he went out in search of some retired spot where it would beabsolutely impossible that he should be interrupted.
Wandering mechanically he found himself on the very spot where they hadinvestigated the silver box together. That would do. No one wouldthink of looking for him there.
He took out the letter and again studied every word of it carefully.There was no getting behind its contents: they were too plain in theirfatal simplicity. And there was an inherent probability about thepotentiality hinted at. He would certainly start at once to investigatethe affair. Better to know the worst at any rate. And then howheartily he cursed the Kafir's obtrusive gratitude, wishing athousand-fold that he had left that sable bird of ill-omen at the mercyof his chastisers. However, if there was any truth in the story, it wasbound to have come to light sooner or later in any case--perhaps betternow, before the mischief wrought was irreparable. But if it should turnout to be true--what then? Good-bye to this beautiful and idyllic dreamin which they two had been living during all these months past.Good-bye to a life's happiness: to the bright golden vista they had beengazing into together. Why had he not closed with Hlangani's hideousproposal long ago? Was it too late even now?
The man suffered agonies as he sat there, realising his shatteredhopes--the fair and priceless structure of his life's happiness levelledto the earth like a house of cards. Like Lucifer fallen from Paradisehe felt ready for anything.
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Great was Eanswyth's consternation and astonishment when he announcedthe necessity of making a start that afternoon.
"The time will soon pass," he said. "It is a horrible nuisance,darling, but there is no help for it. The thing is too important. Thefact is, something has come to light--something which may settle thatdelayed administration business at once."
It might, indeed, but in a way very different to that which he intendedto convey. But she was satisfied.
"Do not remain away from me a moment longer than you can help, Eustace,my life!" she had whispered to him during the last farewell, she havingwalked a few hundred yards with him in order to see the last of him."Remember, I shall only exist--not live--during these next few days.This is the first time you have been away from me since--since thatawful time."
Then had come the sweet, clinging, agonising tenderness of parting.Eanswyth, having watched him out of sight, returned slowly to the house,while he, starting upon his strange venture, was thinking in thebitterness of his soul how--when--they would meet again. His heart washeavy with a sense of coming evil, and as he rode along his thoughtswould recur again and again to the apparition which had so terrifiedEanswyth a few nights ago. Was it the product of a hallucination on herpart after all, or was it the manifestation of some strange and dualphase of Nature, warning of the ill that was to come? He felt almostinclined to admit the latter.
'Tween Snow and Fire: A Tale of the Last Kafir War Page 40